The Winchester Gospels
by MissScorp
Summary: There is only one thing in the life of Dean and Sam Winchester that has never failed them: that '67 Impala. Written as part of the RLt Spring gift exchange. *complete*


**A/N:** Hello there… and welcome!

I (sadly) do not own anything from Supernatural and own nothing that the people from Supernatural would like to own if they decide to come and sue me heh

**S/N:** This is a contribution to the 2014 Reviews Lounge, Too Spring gift exchange.

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In the spring of 1967, a car rolled off the GM assembly line. It was sleek and black with chrome trim that sparkled like diamonds wherever the light bounced off her. Of course, nobody paid any mind as this car drove out into that early morning sun for the very first time. To the factory workers who were watching, she was just another Impala, one of a hundred which they'd built inside that huge factory. She was nothing special, just a plain Jane automobile off to the auto dealer who'd drawn her number. The idea that she might be special would have been ludicrous, laughable even. And honestly, it really shouldn't have been all that big a surprise. What do I mean? Well, what I mean is that _this_ Impala was (and is) very special. She was (and remains) the only one of her kind. I mean sure, she wasn't flashy like that new convertible Mustang. Nor did she have the power of that new RS Camaro. What she did have though was something that neither of those cars had: a _purpose_.

What purpose? you ask.

Well, for starters, this Impala was hand-selected (you could say that a _divine_ hand was involved in that) to become the most important object in... well, pretty much the entire damned universe. Yup, this car that was formed out of steel, wires and glass, with chrome trim inside and out, walnut paneling on the lower instrument panels and pleated tuft upholstery in virginal white was destined to play a pivotal role in the lives of two rather extraordinary brothers. Now, you wouldn't think she was destined to play any role beyond the one she'd been created to play: passenger vehicle. At first glance, it would seem that her life was going to be spent as the conveyance for a Bible-thumping hypocrite who spouted off about salvation and "Judgment Day" on the weekends while drowning himself in sin and booze during the week. After her first owner passed away (another instance of divine influence you could say), she ended up at Rainbow Motors, a used car lot in Lawrence, Kansas.

Lawrence is where her story _really_ begins.

In fact, it wouldn't be wrong to say that all this started there in Lawrence.

It started the moment when a young marine by the name of John Winchester bought her on impulse in April of 1973. Well, impulse and after getting a sales pitch from a new found _friend_ who was Angel-traveling (ha, get it?). Standing out there in that early spring sunshine, Dean told him about how this Impala had everything he needed. But Dean was only telling John about the _physical_ things that the Impala had been given at that plant in Janesville, Wisconsin. He didn't tell him about the things that other Impala's _didn't _have. Like the trunk that is really a locker that conceals all the armaments that their family needs to fight the monsters you only think are hiding beneath your bed. Nor did he tell him about how that trunk is protected by a combination lock that can only be opened by inputting the following six numbers: 11-02-83.

Remember those numbers, by the way. They are going to become quite significant here in just a bit.

No, Dean didn't tell him about how this car was going to become home, mother, father, confidant and the longest friend that both him and his brother, Sammy, would ever have. As he stood there he decided it just was not important for John to know about those things. He didn't need to know about how he'd sit on the hood of that Impala, watching as the only home that his boys would know burn to the ground. He decided not to tell him about how they wouldn't just lose their family home that night. No, Dean didn't John about how those two boys would lose something even more important to them that night: their mother.

Remember I said to keep that locker combination in mind? Well, can you guess what those dates correspond with? Yup, that's right. It's the date of the death of Mary Winchester.

See, you could say that November 02, 1983 is when Sam and Dean not only became motherless children, but fatherless children as well. It's the night that John decides to embark upon a path of vengeance that would eventually claim his own life as well.

Again, I digress.

No, Dean doesn't tell his father about any of those things as they stand there, looking at that Impala while a gentle breeze flavored by Prince's plumes swirls around them. At that moment, none of those things are important for John Winchester to know. The only thing Dean decides that is imperative for John to know at that moment is that that ole Impala is "the one" he really wanted.

"You know man," John would say as he stared at that 327 four barrel motor that can deliver 275 torques of horsepower. "You're right."

Dean would then jerk his head towards the 1964 VW van John had been there to buy and asked him one question: "Then what are you buying that thing for?"

"I kinda promised someone I would."

Dean would, of course scoff and say, "Over a '67 Chevy? I mean, come on, this is the car of a lifetime. Trust me, this thing's still gonna be badass when it's forty."

John would only consider his words for a moment before deciding Dean was right. The rest you could say is history. Well, it's where the history begins, at least. Remember how I said Dean didn't tell John about all the important stuff about that Impala? Well, he told him about stuff that was important, but it was not the _really _important stuff. No, the really important stuff is all that stuff that Dean knows is going to happen _over_ the course of those forty years he hinted at John about. That's the stuff that is going to fill the pages of what will become known as the _Winchester Gospels_.

See, some of that important stuff might appear to be nothing of any significance on the surface. Like that army man Sam crammed in the ashtray because it looked like the perfect sniper's nest. Or the Legos a very bored Dean shoved into the vents just because he wanted to hear them rattle when the air got turned on. Or how angry John was going to get when he discovered the boys had carved their initials into her dashboard just to establish that she belonged to them and only them. On the surface, none of those things might appear to carry any significance. To the Winchester's, however, they carry a powerful impact. They are the things that make _her _theirs - and which make _them_ hers in return. When Dean rebuilt her from the frame up after her destruction at the hands of a possessed trucker, he made sure to put all those things back. Why? Well, for Sam and Dean, it's those things that make her beautiful. It's her imperfections which make her _home_. Those _are _the important things. They are the reminder that when the crap is rolling down the hill that there's a place they can go to get away from the stench.

That's why when an old hunter named Bobby tells Sam that, "There's nothing to fix. The frame's a pretzel, and the engine's ruined. There's barely any parts worth salvaging," that Sam counters by saying, "Listen to me, Bobby. If there's only one working part, that's enough. We're not just going to give up on her."

Why should they give up on her?

She's never given up on them.

No, this Impala is the one thing in the lives of Dean and Sam Winchester that has never let them down. She was there on January, 24th, 1979 when Dean was born to Mary and John Winchester. And she was there again on May, 2, 1983 when Sam came along to round out their little clan. Oh, and Sam's birthday? It has a lot of significant meaning for the Winchesters. Why? It is the day that Mary agrees to give a demon named Azazel access to her home (11-02-83 just for those of you not paying attention) in exchange for John's life to be spared. It is also the day where John trades his life to Azazel in order to save Dean following a car accident that nearly claimed his life. It is also the day upon which Dean trades his life for Sam's (this is a Winchester pattern you will find) and also when Dean goes to Hell in order to repay that debt. All events that ole Impala either bore witness to, or played a major part of.

How important is she?

_Very_.

Don't believe me?

Just ask Lucifer about how important she is. See, he didn't think she mattered. In his arrogance, he didn't stop to consider the importance of the car that the Winchesters drive. Oh, and it ended up costing him. It cost him big. How? Well, ultimately _she _is what upends his and Michael's plans to wipe out half of humanity with their planned Apocalypse. You think I'm lying to you? Well, recall that army man that little Sammy stuck in her ashtray because it looked like a fantastic place for a blitzkrieg attack upon one of Dean's army guys? Well, in May of 2010, grown-up Sam will spot that green dude through the back window of the Impala. And the combination of that car, her memories, and that army figure will give him the strength he needs in which to take control of Lucifer and stop him before he can kill Dean.

"It's okay, Dean," Sam said to his brother. Tears shimmer in his eyes for the bruises and blood covering every inch of his brother's face. "It's gonna be okay. I've got him."

And Dean can do nothing but sit there and watch as Sammy grabs hold of Michael's arm and takes him down into the portal that The Horsemen's rings opened up. He can only close his eyes as he leans against the Impala, cradled by her and her love as Sam disappears, lost forever to them. They share in this loss because Dean knows that Sammy is hers as much as he is Dean's. She is the one who holds Dean as he grieves for Sammy.

Their Sammy.

She is also the one who would tear asphalt when Sam came back to them. Sure, he was a tad bit different. He'd jumped into Lucifer's Cage and been trapped between two bickering ass monkeys. I mean, shit like that changes a guy, right? And even Death isn't perfect. Point is, mistakes were made and Sammy came home a bit broken inside (okay, he was a lot broken and Cas certainly didn't help fix things with his own head crammed up his angelic butt). That's not important. Well, it _is _important, but it's not important for right now. What is important is that she was there and she was overjoyed that her little family was back together again. The Winchester boys were back in black.

Of course, the reunion was not gonna last long.

They never last long.

Not in this family.

But again I digress.

Dick Roman took an interest in what kind of car the boys drive and she still ended up kicking his ass in the end. He needed the world to believe her boys were mass murdering monsters though and so had them drive around in a replica of her. That's a bad idea for the record. You never push Dean into putting "Baby" (as Dean affectionately calls her) "in the corner." Dick made things personal when he forced Dean into giving up the one constant in his life. Baby plays a vital role in bringing down Dick and his leviathans at the end when she distracts them long enough so that Dean and Sam and Castiel can sneak into SucroCorp to confront Roman.

Of course, Dean and Castiel both get sent to Purgatory… but that's a story for another day. The point is that this car is everything to the Winchesters. And the Winchesters are everything to her.

She's _theirs_ as much as they are _hers_.

She's seen them at their very best (she was with them when they stopped the freakin' Apocalypse), and been there for them at their very worst (Sam's demon-blood drinking days, the funerals' for Adam, Jo, Ellen, Kevin, John and Bobby, the night that the angels were kicked out of Heaven by some vindictive douchebag named Metatron).

She was there the first time Dean promised, "I'm always gonna be there for you, Sammy."

She'd silently promise to take care of them both. Someone needed too.

She hears Sam utter his first clear word: "Dean!" while clapping his hands excitedly.

She's the bosom upon which they rest their burdens, and the bed upon which they their rest weary and broken bodies.

She is the guardian, who stands watch as they sleep; who shields them from the monsters who routinely hunt them in return for being the ones the boys are hunting.

She laughs as Dean lies across her front seat, air drumming and lip synching to Survivor's _Eye of the Tiger_.

She sings along to Bon Jovi with them, not because she particularly cares for the song, but because she's bouncing along a dark and desolate road with them.

She shakes her head, like any mother, at all their back and forth banter. Like whenever Dean tells Sam, "No chick flick moments," and Sam replies, "Alright... jerk."

And she'll sigh with parental bemusement whenever Dean says to Sam, "I talked to the waitress," and cheer when Sammy flips back in that deadpan voice of his, "Yeah? You get anything? Besides her number?"

She'll cry right along with Sam as they drive away from the place where they buried Dean. Sammy is playing _Ramble On_ by Led Zeppelin but she's thinking that _Back in the Saddle _is much more appropriate for her Dean. She knows he's coming back. She trusts Sam to figure out a way to get their Dean home.

She's the one who sees Dean cry as he listens to his dad's voicemail message say, "This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son, Dean. 785-555-0179. He can help."

She'll plead with God to spare her boys from what Michael and Lucifer have planned for them.

And swear vengeance upon Zachariah for causing them even one second of pain.

She adopts a homeless angel simply because he has no place else to go and needs someone to love and protect him.

When Sam and Dean talk about the Apocalypse, the Blood Trials, the First Blade and Abbadon, Metatron, she's right there, planning out how to approach and deal with each situation because she's a member of the team and has a voice, too.

When Dean gives Sam her keys and tells him, "Hey, you better take care of that car. Or, I swear, I'll haunt your ass," she wants to rage and weep in protest. Not because nobody can take care of her like Dean, but because she's not ready to give up on Dean. He's never given up on her. She doesn't get a choice though. She's never completely forgiven Dean for what he did by the way. Sometimes she gets even by dying in the middle of the highway. It's just to remind him about not giving up on her again. I think Dean gets it. He's yet to repeat that particular mistake.

She hugs Sam when he hugs Dean, and hugs Dean when he hugs Sam.

She attends every hunter's funeral with them.

She holds every one of their hopes, their secrets, and their dreams.

But what she lives for the most are the nights when the skies are clear. They'll park her in the middle of nowhere, sit on her hood, sip beers and watch the stars. Neither one will say a word for hours. It's quality family time at its finest. It's just her and her boys.

If it ever occurred to Sam and Dean that they didn't have a proper roof over their heads until they inherited the Men of Letters bunker from their grandfather, it never occurred to them. For them, so long as they have Baby, they have the only home they need. She's the sanctuary that nobody-not Crowley, Abaddon, Metatron or even Gadreel can ever take away from them.

Even the First Blade struggles with separating Dean from Baby. Why? Because nobody and nothing comes between Dean and Baby.

Same as nobody comes between Sam and Dean.

Not a one of those people and none of these things have been there through it all.

They weren't the ones who overheard each and every time John told Dean: "Watch out for Sammy."

They haven't heard each and every time that Dean has said, "Sammy... It's okay... It's okay… I'm here, I'm here... I'm not gonna leave you... I'm not gonna leave you..."

Nor were they the ones who told Dean that, "We'll find a way to save you."

They aren't the living embodiment of brotherhood.

They aren't family.

And at the end of it all, that is what Baby, Sam and Dean Winchester are: a _family_.

An admittedly imperfect, highly chaotic, frequently moody little family who drinks way too much and gets into pissing contests about the dumbest things, but they are a family nonetheless.

For the record, the endings of stories still suck. Any hack with a keyboard can crap out a really great beginning to a story. Endings though are an impossible mess. You have to tie up all the loose ends, connect all the dots, and have it all make sense. But you never can. There is always gonna be that one point you forgot to cover, that one hole you forgot to fill in, that one T you forgot to cross. And since it's the ending, it's all supposed to add up to _something_. I'm telling you, endings are nothing short of a pain in the ass.

Doesn't help when some ass-clown proclaiming he's God decides to throw the book you painstakingly wrote into the fire all because he believes he can write the story better than you did.

Anyway, you are probably asking what this all is supposed to add up too. Damned if I know. I didn't know what it was leading up to the last time I wrote the ending to the _Winchester Gospels_. Back then, the boys were just up against good, evil, angels, devils, fate, destiny, and themselves. Now the stakes are a lot higher. The game has changed thanks to the Mark of Cain. Dean and Sam have always played the game by their own rules, though. They've always danced to the beat of their own drums. More often than not, they've chosen each other. And well it frequently got them (and the world) into a whole lotta trouble. But they've always managed to pull it together and right whatever wrongs they made in the end.

Remember that two boys, a fallen angel, one car and an old hunter are what ultimately stopped the Apocalypse from happening.

Personally, I'd like to think that the First Blade is just another test for Sam and Dean to pass. But I don't think it is. No, I think this is meant as a lesson for the world. I think we're supposed to understand how life isn't about the big picture. It's about the little things. It's about the stuff that people don't see. It's about the unimportant things that most of us just chuck off. It's about the things that matter—really matter. For Sam and Dean, what matters at the end of the day is that they have each other. And they have Baby.

Baby will pull her boys back together.

She's not failed them yet.

And they haven't failed her.

No doubt - endings are hard. But just like I said before... nothing ever really ends, does it?


End file.
